


Seduced and Loved

by ElegantButler



Category: Max Headroom (TV)
Genre: Drugging, EMDR, F/M, Torture, hint of rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-18 03:43:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 11,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15476925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElegantButler/pseuds/ElegantButler
Summary: Taken advantage of at Network 23's newest employee gathering, Bryce Lynch isn't sure exactly what has happened or why. And the reason may be even more complicated than he knows.





	1. The Party and the Morning After

Max Headroom  
Seduced and Loved

 

_**Chapter One: The Party and the Morning After** _

 

Bryce stood in the corner of the Network 23 party. Edison and Theora had invited him, since no one else seemed to have bothered. True he wasn’t old enough to drink alcohol, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t chat with his fellow employees. He loved to brag about his inventions after all, and this seemed a good place to do it.

But here he stood, watching the others converse. A true male wallflower if there ever was one. True that term usually applied to non-dancers. But since he never had danced a day in his life, it certainly applied to him, even if no one else was doing so at the moment either.

The network’s newest employee came and stood beside him.

“You seem a little bored,” she said.

“I’m trying to avoid being bored,” Bryce admitted, not turning to look at her. “The conversations I noticed earlier seem dull enough to make a sloth interesting.”

“A what?” She asked.

“Extinct animal,” Bryce replied. “Never did very much. Quite dull, actually.”

“Whatever, kiddo,” She shrugged.

“It’s Bryce,” Bryce told her. He hated being referred to as a kid. He was sixteen after all. And while it wasn’t old enough to drink, he was considered an adult otherwise. He could even go to war if he was needed!

“Donna,” she told him. “So, who do you belong to?”

“Network 23, actually,” Bryce explained. “I’m head of Research and Development.”

“Do you want something to drink?” Donna asked him, politely.

“Nothing alcoholic,” Bryce told her. “How’s the punch?”

“Punch is often spiked at parties,” Donna told him. “I’d avoid it. How about a glass of soda.”

“I normally don’t drink soda,” Bryce admitted. “But I suppose once in a while is okay. Sure.”

Donna went over to the soft drinks and poured two glasses of soda. Slipping a quickly dissolving pill into one, she headed back to where Bryce was standing.

Edison Carter looked over and saw Bryce and Donna standing there, chatting casually. Getting closer, he heard Bryce explaining one of his inventions to her.

“Looks like Bryce has made a new friend,” he told Theora as he joined her for a drink of what Donna had correctly guessed was Rum Punch.

“That’s good,” Theora smiled. “He needs more friends outside our little group. Cheviot doesn’t give him much of a chance, does he?”

Edison shook his head.

 

Bryce stumbled, nearly dropping the glass of soda he was drinking from.

“What’s wrong?” Donna asked, concern in her voice as she took the half-empty glass from him and set it on the table after tipping its contents into the vase of flowers beside her, making sure no one saw her do it

“Tired,” Bryce admitted. “I guess all the boredom is getting to me.”

“Want me to drive you home?” Donna offered.

“No need,” Bryce explained. “I live here at the Network.”

“Well, at least let me escort you back to your apartment, then,” Donna suggested. “You don’t want to fall down a lift shaft if one malfunctions.”

“Good point,” Bryce agreed, following her out of the room.

It was another five minutes before Edison noticed that neither Bryce nor Donna were anywhere at the party.

“Looks like Bryce and Donna have split,” he told Theora. “Good for them. I’d leave this bore-fest, too, if I could. But you know how it is when you’re the talk of the town. Speaking of which,” he added as Vanna Smith, his old flame, joined them.

“So, Theora Jones is it?” Vanna offered her hand.

Theora didn’t shake it. Vanna had punched Edison in the jaw once. That didn’t impress her.

Vanna got the hint and lowered her arm.

“Edison,” she said, “how’s the jaw?”

“Better,” Edison said, smiling. “I’d certainly feel sorry for any mugger who crossed paths with you.”

Vanna grinned and sat down beside him.

“So you’re his new flame,” she said, addressing Theora.

“Actually, I’m his Controller,” Theora told him. “And I don’t date or sleep with my Operative.”

“A wise choice,” Vanna agreed.

\------------

Bryce barely made it to the door of his apartment, even with Donna’s help.

Getting inside, she led him to the alcove that served as his bedroom, Bryce collapsing onto the bed.

Donna handed Bryce a pill.

“What’s this for?” Donna asked.

“I think someone might have put something into that bottle of soda,” Donna said. “Did it taste funny to you? Go on, it’ll stave off any potential hangover you might get.”

“Maybe,” Bryce admitted sleepily as he swallowed the pill. A wave of heat came over his body, which began to react in a way that he was unfamiliar with.

“I feel weird.” he admitted, as he collapsed onto the bed.

Donna smiled as she began to undress him.

“Just rest,” she told him. “You need your sleep. I bet they keep you up all hours of the night trying to catch up with their demands.”

“Yeah,” Bryce agreed as he drifted off to sleep, wondering why he felt so strange. It was probably the alcohol someone had slipped into the soda, he thought. He barely noticed Donna’s lips as they touched his. It felt nice, but it also felt wrong somehow. He wanted to tell her to stop, but he was too tired. He would deal with the matter in the morning.

He had no idea that by then it would be far too late.

\--------

Bryce woke at 4:27am. His head was pounding and he was stark naked.

“I guess that hangover pill didn’t work,” he muttered, pulling his clothes on. “And when did all my clothes come off? I hope I didn’t strip in front of Donna.”

He felt a chill of embarrassment at the idea and blushed slightly, as he quickly dressed himself.

“I was so drunk last night,” he admitted to himself, having no idea of the true cause of his sudden tiredness. “Who in their right minds puts alcohol in all the drinks at a party? Some people have to drive others home. Idiots.”

“Good mor-mor-morning,” Max said, cheerfully. “You have a good time last night?”

“Not really,” Bryce told him. “And I’ve got a splitting headache at the moment.”

“Take the day off-off-off. Day off,” Max suggested.

“Love to,” Bryce told him. “But it’s impossible. Edison and Cheviot are no doubt going to have their little demands.”

“Tell ‘em to bug-bug-bugger off,” Max told him.

“Temping, but no,” Bryce lamented. “Donna’s right. I never get any rest. I’m going back to sleep until it’s time for work. Maybe this headache will be gone by then?”

“Perhaps,” Max agreed as Bryce got back into bed and closed his eyes.

He was asleep less than a minute later.


	2. Unpleasantries

Chapter Two: Unpleasantries

“Morning, Theora,” Edison said as he walked into the control room.

“Morning,” Theora told him. “How’s Vanna?”

“Ed-Ed-Edison!” Max called out to him.

“Aw, come on!” Edison half-shouted, not noticing. “You know very well she went home before I did. Anyhow, you’ve got Ted. Remember?”

“Keep your voice down,” Murray warned.

“Edison?” Max tried again.  
“For your information, Ted and I broke things off a month ago,” Theora said bitterly. “Unlike you and Vanna apparently.”

“What are you acting all jealous for anyhow?” Edison asked. “I thought you said last night that you would never date me because I was your Operative. Remember?”

Theora glared at him. “So you were sober!”

“I was clear-headed enough to think clearly if that’s what you mean?”

“Hey!” Max shouted at them.”This is IMPORTANT!”

“What is it, Max?” Theora asked, finally giving the construct some attention.

“Bryce won’t wake up,” Max told her. “I t-t-tried to wake him. He was awake earlier. But he said he had a headache and went back-back-back to bed.”

Theora was at the lift seconds later, followed by Murray and Edison.

When they arrived at Bryce’s studio, they found him lying on his side, moaning softly.

“Looks like he’s just exhausted,” Murray said. “Damn it, Max. You scared us to death.”

“You, Murray?” Edison raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t like Bryce.”

“He makes me nervous,” Murray admitted. “But I don’t hate him.”

Edison smiled. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to know that.”

Theora noticed something at that point.

“Does he look a little flushed to you?” she asked the others.

“Well, he wasn’t exactly dressed for morning tea earl-earl-earlier,” Max explained, not being the most tactful AI on the planet.

“We really didn’t need to know that,” Murray pointed out.

Theora turned to Edison. “You don’t suppose Donna took advantage of Bryce, do you?”

“It’s hard to be sure,” Edison said. “We won’t know until we can question Bryce. For now we can’t assume anything.”

Murray led the out of Bryce’s studio. “We’ll just let Bryce sleep for now. Let’s not confront Donna until we know where things stand. I don’t think he had anything alcoholic last night.”

“Donna did bring him a soda,” Edison remembered. “But those were just plain.”

“Unless she added a little something,” Theora pointed out as they got on the lift and headed back down to Control.

“You think she slipped him a mickey?” Edison asked, horrified at the thought.

“Given that we know almost nothing about her,” Theora began.

“...other than that she seems to have taken an interest in Bryce for some reason...” Murray cut in.

“...anything is possible.” Theora finished.

Edison slammed his fist on the desk. “Damn her!”

“Relax,” Theora told him. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Even if Bryce did get a little tipsy last night, he still could have been sober enough to agree to a night with her.”

“Why would Bryce sleep with Donna?” Murray wanted to know. “He doesn’t even know her!”

“Maybe she offered herself and he accepted out of curiosity?” Edison asked.

“Curiosity,” Murray muttered. “The eternal flaw of geniuses everywhere.”

They reached Control and returned to Theora’s desk.

 

\---------

Bryce finally woke at just after eleven.

There was a notice on his viewphone that Cheviot had been trying to reach him.

“Goddamn it, Bryce Lynch!”

Full name. Uh oh.

“If you can’t be up and working on time in the morning, I’m going to have to find a new genius to take your place.”

“Won’t be as good as I am,” Bryce muttered as he tapped in Cheviot’s work viewphone number. “Morning.”

“You look dreadful,” Cheviot told him, disapprovingly. “You’d better not be having a hangover! I won’t have underage drinking at my Network!”

“I only drank whatever you put in your damned soda!” Bryce snapped. He still had the remnants of his earlier headache and really didn’t need to be falsely accused.

“The sodas were untouched,” Cheviot told him.

“Liar,” Bryce snarled. “There was something in them. Both Donna and I tasted it.”

“Maybe someone else put something it one of the sodas after we set them up?” Lauren suggested.

“I’ll check around,” Cheviot agreed. “Sorry, Bryce.”

Bryce nodded, and signed off.

Cheviot glared at the empty screen.

“Did he just hang up on me?” he asked, angrily. “I have half a mind to…”

“Ben,” Lauren said. “He’s not feeling well. Let him have the day off.”

“Do you think it has anything to do with Donna?” Ashwell offered.

“You mean the new staff member from accounts?” Edwards asked him.

Ashwell nodded.

“What about her?” Cheviot wanted to know.

“Well,” Ashwell said. “Bryce almost passed out last night at the party. Donna left with him. I assumed she just wanted to make sure he didn’t trip on a stair or fall down an empty shaft. You know how our lifts can be sometimes.”

“And now you think she had other ideas?” Lauren asked, disliking where the conversation was headed.

“Let’s not assume anything right now,” Cheviot warned. “If you’re talking about what I think you are, you’re treading toward very deep waters. Donna seems like a very nice young woman. I doubt she’d harm Bryce.”

“You’re probably right,” Ashwell said. 

“I hope you are,” Lauren sighed. “I really hope you are.”


	3. Discussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bryce meets with a former classmate who may have some shocking information for him.

Chapter Three: Discussions

Bryce sighed. No matter how hard he tried, he could not take his mind off the party. It had been mind-numbingly dull. There was no question about it. But why had he behaved so foolishly? Why had he left with a woman he didn’t even know outside of the fact that her name was Donna. 

He stared at the screen in front of him. It held several lines of programming text that he’d been working on over the past two days. Normally such a thing would’ve taken him an hour at most. But not this time. He felt a sense of self-doubt that he had never experienced in the past. Now, having made such a crucial mistake at the party, he wondered if he’d ever feel truly confident in his work again.

Don’t be silly, Bryce, he thought to himself. One little mistake is not the end of the world.

So why did it seem as if it was?

 

\--------

Edison decided to talk to Bryce a couple of days later. He found it disconcerting that Bryce seemed to be avoiding him. The young genius usually tried to avoid any real work as most teenagers were wont to do. But to avoid people altogether was unlike Bryce who loved to show off his new ideas and inventions. The one Edison found most interesting was a beautiful light in a shade of blue that he had never seen before. 

Taking the lift, he found it stopping only two floors up. When the door opened, he saw Donna standing there. She seemed taken aback to see him, quickly covering it by checking her purse.

“Damn,” she swore as she headed off in a hurry.. “I left it back in my office.” 

“Control,” Edison told Theora over her viewphone link. “I just ran into Donna at the lift. I think she was planning to see Bryce.”

“She may have just wanted to check up on him,” Theora pointed out.

“Assuming she didn’t have less honorable plans for our young friend,” Edison told her. “She certain was acting suspicious, running off when she saw me. It’s possible she did something to him the night of the party.”

 

While Edison was on his way to Bryce’s studio, Bryce was still trying to budge that piece of programming that had been eluding him the past couple of days.

Deciding that progress was more important than pride, he tapped the number for Jenny’s studio.

Jenny, his classmate at ACS, had been quite fond of Bryce ever since their college days together. Bryce knew her enough to know that she would make fun of him or belittle him for his recent lapse in judgement or his inability to get his latest project completed.

“Hi, Bryce,” she said, cheerfully. Then she saw the almost sad expression his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Bryce admitted. “A few bad decisions lately.”

“From you?” Jenny asked. “That is worrisome. Well, mistakes can shake confidence and lead to others. What was the first one?”

Bryce blushed a little. “I was at the Network 23 gathering recently. You know, the one they throw every year? Biggest mistake of my life. I never would’ve met Donna if I hadn’t gone.”

“Who’s Donna?” Jenny raised an eyebrow.

“New woman on the staff,” Bryce explained. “She works in accounts. She seemed nice enough.”

“So what happened?” Jenny asked.

“We talked a bit. Then she asked if I wanted a drink since she was getting herself one. I figured there was nothing wrong as long as I explained that I’m not permitted alcohol.”

“She didn’t give you a beer or something?” Jenny inquired.

“No,” Bryce told her. “A soda. Strange thing was, I nearly fell over from exhaustion a few minutes later. I thought I must be overworked, so I started to head up to my studio. Donna offered to make sure I got there okay.”

“What happened at your studio?” Jenny asked in concern.

“I don’t know,” Bryce admitted. “After she gave me a hangover pill, I pretty much passed out.”

“Oh, Bryce,” Jenny said. “I’d like to come and see you. I’d rather not have the rest of this conversation over the viewphone. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Okay,” Bryce agreed. “Thanks, Jenny.”

After Jenny disconnected the call, Max Headroom made himself known.

“So so so,” Max remarked, “this is your first visit with a g-g-girl your own age, huh?”

“Jenny’s an old classmate,” Bryce explained. 

“Oh? Does sh-sh-she feel that way?”

“I don’t know,” Bryce admitted. “I know she likes me.”

“Just likes?” Max inquired.

“Yes, how else would she feel?”

Max tilted his head.

Bryce rolled his eyes. “Even if she did have a crush on me in college, I doubt she’d still feel that way after we haven’t spoken since graduation.”

“Are you sure about that, mister?” Jenny said firmly from behind.

Bryce turned and saw her smiling warmly at him.

“Jenny?”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Jenny told him. “Right now, let’s talk about what that bitch probably did to you.”

“Why are you calling her a bitch, Jenny?” Bryce asked. “You haven’t even met her.”

“Well, I think it’s a pretty accurate description for someone who raped you,” Jenny said, angrily. “If I had two minutes with her, she’d have two black eyes and be missing most of her teeth.”

“What do you mean by “raped”?” Bryce asked in confusion.

Jenny sighed. “How much do you know about sex?”

“Basically nothing,” Bryce admitted. When he saw the expression on her face he hastily added “Hey! I didn’t think SexEd was important so I skipped and took study hall instead.”

“Bryce, dear Bryce,” Jenny told him, sighing. “This is going to take a little explaining.”


	4. Love and Desire

Chapter Four: Love and Desire

By the time Jenny was finished explaining things to him, Bryce was nearly in shock. He felt disgust toward Donna. It hurt him to know that someone he’d hoped would become a new friend had destroyed his innocence. The emotional pain brought the first tears to his eyes since before he’d attended ACS.

Jenny kissed his tears away, stroking his face tenderly.

Bryce felt himself blush. He looked at Jenny’s face, trying to read her expression. There was compassion there, as well as warmth. And something else was there as well. 

Love.

His heart felt light and his mind reeled with the thought that someone could love him. Not only could, but did. The thing he found intriguing was that he felt a very powerful love toward her as well. It was as if his heart has been waiting for her to finally unlock itself.

“Jenny,” he said. “I don’t know how to ask this. Or if it’s too early.”

“You want to make love?” Jenny asked, sweetly. “You want to know sex in the best way, now that your body has been cruelly used in the worst?”

Bryce nodded, shyly.

“We can do that,” Jenny agreed. “I think a side by side approach will be best given that you’re not sure of what to do, and I doubt you’d want me on top after what’s happened to you. And it goes without saying that Max won’t spy on us.”

“I’ll just take a cue from Edison and throw a blanket over the TV,” Bryce decided.

“Good idea,” Jenny said as they slipped into the bedroom and began to undress. 

Jenny had unbuttoned most of her shirt when Bryce heard the viewphone go off in the other room.

“Edison.” he said. “He’ll get nosey if I don’t answer. I’ll be right back.”

Bryce went to the viewphone and connected the call.

“What do you need, Edison?” he asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice to prevent Edison from getting suspicious.

“I need you to look something up for me,” Edison told him.

“You do realize that Max can do it ten times faster, right?” Bryce pointed out. “Fine. What do you want looked up?”

“I need to find out why Zik Zak is cutting back its advertising campaign,” Edison said.

Bryce tapped in a few codes and looked up at Edison. “Sending data now.” he said. “Can I get back to what I was doing now?”

“Sure thing,” Edison agreed. “Talk to you later.”

Bryce disconnected the call, then returned to the bedroom. 

Jenny had already finished getting undressed. She had been listening to the viewphone conversation and was certain that Bryce wasn’t going to have company. 

Bryce stared at her in wonder and amazement.

“Do you like it?” Jenny asked, blushing a little.

Bryce smiled as he undressed, blushing as much as Jenny was. “Very much.”

Bryce lowered the lights in the little alcove bedroom as they slipped under the sheets together.


	5. Double Trouble

Chapter Five: Double Trouble

 

Jenny looked for a moment longer at the little stick in her hand several weeks later, worry and concern on her face. She smiled a moment later.

 _Oh, Bryce_ , she thought to herself. _Bryce, Bryce, Bryce. I wonder what you’ll do when I tell you? But before that, I guess I need to be certain._

Jenny tapped the keys of her viewphone, bringing up the older and careworn face of the woman who worked as Network 66’s on-site physician.

“Miss Wilcox,” the physician asked. “What can I do for you?”

“Dr. Allred, I took a pregnancy test,” Jenny admitted. “It came back positive, but I don’t trust it. Can you double-check for me?”

“Sure thing,” Dr. Jayne Allred told her. “Come on up and we’ll have a look.”

Jenny disconnected the call and headed out to the lift, touching the button for the medical level as soon as she’d stepped inside.

_Now, Bryce… let’s find out..._

 

*****

Donna Andrews climbed down from the exam table, a cold smile on her face. “Dr. Wells, are you’re absolutely sure?”

Dr. Wells nodded. “You’re definitely expecting.”

“Thank you,” Donna said as she pulled her purse strap onto her shoulder and left

Dr. Wells stared at her as she departed. Her cold attitude toward her pregnancy worried him. He wanted to do a paternity test. Maybe the father would be a better parent. The trick was getting the DNA from the baby to do so. He would have to find an excuse.

*****

Bryce stared at Jenny in shock.

“You… you’re _what_?”

“We’re going to have a baby, Bryce,” Jenny explained.

Bryce smiled awkwardly. “A baby?”

“You’re going to be a dad,” Jenny told him.

“Well, well, aren’t you prolific…” Donna said from the doorway, a look of disdain on her face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bryce snapped at her.

“She means she’s also pregnant,” Jenny said. “Isn’t that right, bitch?”

“Oh, it’s right alright,” Donna said.

“You don’t have to worry about her,” Jenny told him. “She raped you, remember? Her crime. Her problem.”

“I don’t think I want my baby raised by a rapist,” Bryce told them both.


	6. Chapter 6

###  **_Chapter Six: A Dad’s Dilemma_ **

  
  


Bryce lie on his stomach in bed, his face buried in the pillow. He wasn’t crying. Rather, he was trying to work out in his mind what he was supposed to do.

 

His mind, brilliant as it was, had no answers for him.

 

Turning on his back, he let out a sigh.

 

“What am I going to do?”

 

“Little puzz-puzz-puzzle on your m-m-mind?” Max asked.

 

“Big puzzle, actually,” Bryce admitted. “Max, Donna raped me on the night of the party.”

 

“I know,” Max told him. 

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Bryce asked.

 

“Only you can unburden yourself,” Max reminded him. “So.. you want to p-p-press charges at last?”

 

“I should,” Bryce admitted. “But I don’t want to. I don’t care what happens to her. But I don’t want _ my  _ baby born in jail.”

 

“So, that’s it,” Theora said from the door. “She used you to have a genius baby.”

 

“Well, she might ending  _ having the baby, _ ” Bryce told her. “But I’m not going to let her  _ raise my baby. _ ”

 

“You’re a bit young to raise a child,” Theora said.

 

“Two children,” Bryce confided. “Jenny’s pregnant as well. Though in that case, we both joined willingly.”

 

“Jenny?” Theora asked.

 

“She’s my old classmate,” Bryce explained. “And girlfriend. But you can’t tell anyone. She’s also Head of Research and Development at Network 66.”

 

“Like Romeo and Juliet,” Theora remarked, quickly adding “Without the dying bit. So what are you going to do?”

 

“I don’t have any idea,” Bryce confessed. “I suppose my mother could help. But I haven’t spoken to her since I went to ACS. I don’t think it’s really fair to expect…”

 

“My brother and I were estranged for years before we patched things up,” Theora told him. “Why don’t you call her now? I’ll be here if you need me.”

 

Bryce bit his lower lip as he sat down at the viewphone and tapped in the directory to find his parents’ number. He knew the old one to this day, but couldn’t be sure they still had the same number or the same address. 

 

They had moved, but their number was still the same. Tapping it in, Bryce wondered what they would say when they answered the phone.

 

It was his mother who answered.

 

“Bryce?!”

 

“Hello, mum,” he said. 

 

“Why haven’t you called?” Mrs. Lynch asked.

 

“I don't have a real answer for that,” Bryce admitted. “At first I was busy with school, and work. But there were times I could have called. But by then, I thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore. And you didn’t actually seem to be in too much of a hurry to call me.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Lynch apologized to her son. “So, what’s been going on with you?”

 

“Well, I’m working at Network 23,” Bryce told her. “And I’ve made a small circle of friends. I’ll introduce you when you come over. There’s something I need to talk to you about. Something I don’t think is appropriate to discuss over the phone.”

 

“I look forward to seeing you again, Bryce,” his mother told him. “Where do you want to meet?”

 

“The Fresh Start,” Bryce told her.

 

“I’ll see you in one hour,” Mrs. Lynch told her son, certain that this was something that Bryce needed help was as soon as possible.

 

“Thanks, mom. Bring dad along. I need  _ his _ advice, too.”

  
  
  
  
  



	7. Family Discussions

###  **_Chapter Seven: Family Discussions_ **

  


Bryce’s mother looked him over as she and his father walked into the Fresh Start. She smiled at what she saw. Her son was not overly handsome, but definitely what teenage girls would describe as ‘cute’. He was dressed in a manner she greatly approved of and seemed to be waiting for someone.

 

A moment later, that someone walked in the door. She was also sixteen and she seemed a little self-conscious as she spotted Bryce’s parents.

 

“Bryce,” she said. “You never told me your parents would be here.”

 

“I wasn’t entirely sure they’d show up,” Bryce admitted. “I guess I should have told you it was possible.”

 

“What’s this about, Bryce?” Mr. Lynch asked.

 

“I think it would be best if we sat down first,” Bryce suggested.

 

Bryce’s mother looked over at Jenny with an _are you_ expression on her face.

 

Jenny nodded, causing Mrs. Lynch to raise an eyebrow and give her son a stern look.

 

 _How do women do that?_ Bryce wondered as he, his parents, and Jenny sat down at a corner booth, the type with the circular seating.

 

“So, what sort of trouble are you in, son?” Mr. Lynch asked, concernedly.

 

“It’s nothing bad,” Bryce told him. “Well, actually part of it is bad, but not the bit about Jenny.”

 

“Perhaps you should start at the beginning,” Jenny suggested.

 

Bryce nodded, launching into an explanation that started with the night of the party and ending with Jenny’s revelation and their confrontation with Donna.

 

“So you’ve got two children on the way now,” Mr. Lynch said.

 

Mrs. Lynch turned to Jenny. “Have you decided what you’d like to do with your baby?”

 

“Well, I plan to keep him or her,” Jenny told her. “I was going to ask my parents to help out, but when I had asked them, they pitched a fit and hung up on me. I’m pretty sure I’ve been disowned.”

 

“We’ll do whatever we can to help,” Mrs. Lynch said, sympathetically. “And what of the _other_ baby?” she asked turning to Bryce.

 

“I want custody,” Bryce said. “Even if physical custody goes to you rather than me, I want to be the custodial parent.”

 

“Do you have an apartment?”

 

“I live at my lab,” Bryce explained.

 

“A lab is no place to raise a child,” Mrs. Lynch told him. “It’s too dangerous! The baby could get seriously hurt when they’re old enough to crawl or even just grab things!”

 

“Your mother’s right, Bryce,” Mr. Lynch agreed. “If you want to be present in your children’s lives,  you’ll have to either figure out a way to work from home, or quit Network 23.”

 

“The former would be preferable,” Mrs. Lynch pointed out. “Children are expensive to take care of. You might be better off giving Donna’s child up for adoption.”

 

“Too much chance of her family getting custody,” Bryce pointed out. “And they did a _wonderful_ job with her.”

 

“Point taken,” Mr. Lynch said. “In the meantime, you and Jenny have a few serious things to think about. After all, you did say you work for rival networks. Have you considered what your respective bosses are going to say when they find out. This isn’t something you can hide from them. Sooner or later, they’ll find out.”

 

Bryce and Jenny exchanged looks.

 

“We never thought of that,” Bryce admitted. “I guess one of us will have to retire.”

 

“It would make more sense if it was me,” Jenny said.

 

“You can move in with us, dear,” Mrs. Lynch said. “We’ll look after you and the baby.”

  


At a nearby table, Theora Jones was smiling as she sat with her sister-in-law Winnie. She’d known that Bryce was coming here to see his parents about his children and wanted to be there in case it went poorly.

 

 _Well,_ she thought to herself, _that went better than I expected._

 


	8. Time to Tell the Bosses

###  **_Chapter Eight: Time To Tell The Bosses_ **

 

“You know it’s really none of their business,” Bryce remarked as he and Jenny tried to think of a way to explain their situation to Cheviot and Grossberg.

 

“That’s true, Bryce,” Jenny agreed. “But your mum did say children are expensive to take care of. So if we can both manage to keep our jobs and get a raise, even if one or both of us is working out of your parents’ home, it’ll really help out.”

 

There was a long pause during which you could hear a pin hit the ground. 

 

“Well, if we’re going to tell them, who’s going first?” Jenny asked.

 

“We’ll tell them together,” Bryce decided. “Tell Grossberg you want to talk to him at the Fresh Start tonight at six. I’ll tell Cheviot the same.”

 

Jenny kissed him. “I hope this works,” she told him. 

  
  


*****

 

Ben Cheviot glared at Ned Grossberg as he saw his former boss, now rival, standing in the waiting area of the Fresh Start.

 

Grossberg glanced at Cheviot, then turned away quickly.

 

_ What the hell is he doing here? _ Each exec wondered.

 

“Sir,” Bryce and Jenny both called to them as they walked in.

 

Cheviot stared angrily at Bryce and Jenny. It was a look matched for intensity by Grossberg’s glower. 

 

Bryce and Jenny glanced at each other, each wondering how to say what needed saying.

 

Then, Bryce turned Jenny to face him and kissed her, softly, on the mouth. It was a kiss that Jenny instantly returned.

 

“Knock it off!” Cheviot shouted at them.

 

Bryce and Jenny broke off the kiss and turned to face the two men.

 

“I think we’ve just made our  _ feelings  _ perfectly clear,” Jenny said. “Now, let’s sit down and have a nice long conversation.”

“Our heads of research and development have betrayed…”

 

“How dare you call Bryce a traitor!” Jenny snarled at Cheviot. “He’d never do that!”

 

“Jenny’s too good a person to betray anyone!” Bryce snapped at Grossberg at almost the same time. “How dare you suggest such a thing!”

 

Ironically, both had once been guilty of what they were defending each other of. Bryce when he’d tried to protect some signal zippers who had been operating out of his old school at ACS; Jenny when she’d given information Grossberg’s bogus ViewDoze program to Bryce himself.

 

Their bosses didn’t even think of those incidents. Having just watched two of their most valuable assets making out like common teenagers was a bit disconcerting for both of them.

 

Cheviot grabbed Bryce by the back of his jacket and started to drag him toward the door.

 

“I’m not leaving Jenny,” Bryce said, angrily grabbing a decorative spindle that was part of one of the columns he was being dragged past.

 

Jenny had seated herself in one of the round booths, placing herself at the exact center of the bench. “Stop making a scene Mr. Cheviot,” she added. “Bryce and I are…”

 

“You and Bryce are a faded memory as of now,” Cheviot told her. He turned to Bryce. “It’s time to…”

 

“I’m pregnant,” Jenny told Grossberg and Cheviot.

 

Cheviot released Bryce who sat next to Jenny.

 

“Well, Bryce?” Cheviot asked. “Is it yours?”

 

“Yes,” Bryce told them as he sat beside Jenny. “You’d better sit down, there’s more.”

 

Cheviot and Grossberg sat at opposite sides of the table, trying to comfortably glare at each other.

 

“Now, it goes without saying that a simple room-for-services arrangement is no longer going to be appropriate,” Jenny said.

 

“Really, it hasn’t been appropriate since we turned sixteen,” Bryce pointed out. “It’s the financial equivalent of keeping a person on a short leash.”

 

“Obviously it failed,” Cheviot remarked. “How much of a raise do you want? If we decide to give you one?”

 

“Standard paycheck for research department heads, plus twenty percent increase in pay backdated to when we were fourteen.” Bryce said.

 

“Are you mad?” Cheviot demanded.

 

“My mother says babies are expensive,” Bryce pointed out.

 

“Get rid of it,” Cheviot said, shocking everyone else at the table. Seeing their expressions he amended. “I mean give it up for adoption.  How do you plan on caring for a child.”

 

“Children,” Bryce told him. 

 

“Twins?” Grossberg asked Jenny.

 

“Donna,” Bryce explained. 

 

“You got  _ her _ pregnant, too?” Cheviot demanded, crossly.

 

“She got  _ herself _ pregnant at my expense,  _ thank you! _ ” Bryce complained. “It was the night of your little party. She drugged me. That’s all I have to say about that.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Cheviot asked.

 

“Jesus Christ, Ben, why do you think?” Grossberg snapped on Bryce’s behalf. He turned to Bryce. “Are you seeking custody of the child?”

 

Bryce nodded. “Not physical custody. My parents are going to bring the baby up. But I want legal custody. I don’t want someone like that raising  _ my _ baby.”

 

Cheviot put his head in his hands. “Bryce, when we get back to Network 23, we need to have a serious talk about this Donna business.”

 

Bryce lowered his head.

 

“It’ll be okay,” Jenny told him.

 


	9. Talking About Donna

###  **_Chapter Nine: Talking About Donna_ **

 

“Follow me,” Cheviot ordered Bryce as they arrived back at Network 23. He was going to get to the bottom of things right now. If one of his employees had mistreated another, he wanted to know.

 

It bothered him that Bryce didn’t trust him enough to let him know what Donna had done straight away. 

 

When they reached his office, Cheviot turned to Bryce.

 

“Sit down,” he offered.

 

Bryce took a seat across the desk from Cheviot, gazing at the floor in shame.

 

“Did you do anything to be ashamed of?”Cheviot asked.

 

“I used poor judgement in…” Bryce began.

 

“Start at the beginning and tell me everything,” Cheviot said. “Without the self-judgement.”

 

“I was keeping to myself,” Bryce explained. “ _ She  _ came over and after we talked for a moment, she offered to get my a soda since she was getting herself one.”

 

“When you talked, did she make you nervous or uncomfortable?” Cheviot asked.

 

“No,” Bryce replied.

 

“And getting someone a soda is a friendly gesture, correct?”

 

Bryce nodded.

 

“Then you had no reason to suspect her motives,” Cheviot explained. “Therefore you did not use poor judgement. Go on, what happened next?”

 

“After I drank the soda, I felt woozy and sleepy,” Bryce explained. Donna offered to help get back to my studio. I should’ve said  _ no _ . I admit that.”

 

“But you were too out of it to make a sensible decision,” Cheviot assured him. “Again, nothing to be ashamed of. So stop looking down as if you’re to blame for this. You’re not.”

 

“She gave me a pill, which I took,” Bryce told him, forcing himself to look up. “She said that someone had probably slipped alcohol in the soda and that the pill would prevent me from having a really bad hangover in the morning.”

 

“Which, given the fact that she probably used you specifically to get pregnant was either an aphrodisiac or something to increase your sperm count.” Cheviot explained to him. 

He tapped in the viewphone number for the security guards’ office.

 

“Security,” he told them. “Donna Andrews is no longer employed or welcome at this network.”

 

Disconnecting the call, he turned to Bryce. “Let’s go talk to the metrocops.”

“I can’t,” Bryce told him. 

 

“Remember what I told you,” Cheviot said, “Not. Your. Fault.”

 

“It’s still humiliating,” Bryce pointed out. “And I don’t ever want the child to know how they came into the world. I don’t want to risk them ever believing there could be a reason for me to not care about them.”

 

“They’re bound to ask about their mother at some point,” Cheviot told him.

 

“Then I’ll tell them when they’re older,” Bryce decided.


	10. Tortured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains extreme torture and violence.

###  **_Chapter Ten: Tortured_ **

 

That night, as Bryce slept fitfully, a man in his early thirties slipped quietly into his studio. 

 

In the man’s hands was a small white strip. A Neurostim bracelet left over from Zik Zak’s failed marketing attempt not long ago.

 

Neurostim had been a gimmick which provided the user with the manufactured dream of a positive experience which left them feeling a little hungry. Which was precisely what Zik Zak wanted.

 

This particular Neurostim had been reprogrammed. And not just to make the dream last longer.

 

The man placed the bracelet on Bryce’s wrist and tapped the button.

 

“This is what you get for sleeping with my wife,” he said as the bracelet began to work.

 

*****

 

Bryce’s eyes flew open the moment the hand struck his face. He tried to sit up, but discovered he was strapped down.

 

“What…?!” He demanded.    
  


But the same hand covered it’s mouth as the hand’s owner whispered “shhh.”

 

Bryce struggled as his head was turned to one side. He was a big, beefy man standing there with a scalpel.

 

“Just watch,” the first man said as the second man pressed the scalpel blade into the tip of the little finger on Bryce’s right hand.

 

Bryce cried out in pain, but his body was held too tightly by the straps for him to free his hand.

 

The pain increased as the scalpel was drawn down the length of his finger, splitting the skin.

 

Horror, nausea, pain, and revulsion filled his head, throat and stomach as Bryce watched the heavyset man peel the flesh from the bone of his finger. He screamed in agony and terror. Not the scream of a human being, but that of a tormented animal.

 

*****

 

The man stood over Bryce’s bed, watching as the young genius’s body arched and writhed, his mind trapped in a dream of such horrific torture that it would be unlikely that his sanity would be intact if he were ever to awaken.

 

Donna had come to him. Come and told him that she was pregnant. An impossibility if she were being faithful to him. Working with radiation had given him cancer and rendered him sterile. When she had told him who the father was, he had decided he would not let their unfaithfulness go unpunished. He had tried to call the hospital to arrange an abortion, but they refused saying that only the mother could make such a request.

 

Okay, then, he decided. If she was determined to have it, he would make sure it was big enough for the birth to hurt as much as possible.

 

*****

 

In the nightmare, Bryce’s voice was gone. He had screamed himself into silence as he watched and felt each finger being sliced and peeled. He watched in terrified fascination and horrified revulsion as each bone came into view.

 

*****

 

“Hey, Bryce!” Max called out cheerfully as he appeared on the screen in Bryce’s bedroom alcove. Then he spotted the intruder. “Wait! How did you g-g-get in here? Who are you?!”

 

The intruder turned and fled, leaving the evil bracelet on Bryce’s wrist.

 

Max saw Bryce thrashing about and realized what was going on. Though he had no idea as to the extent of what the vicious man had done.

 

“Bryce! Wake up-up-up! Come on!”

 

But Bryce could not wake up. Not as long as the Neurostim bracelet was working.

 

Max flipped over to the security team’s many screens.

 

“Help!” he cried out to them. “Bryce is in t-t-trouble-ble-ble. He’s having a night-night-nightmare and I can’t wake him up!”

 

The woman who ran security decided that this was not a job for a group of heavy handed men and stood up. “I’ll go.” she said as she made her way to Level 13.

 

*****

 

Bryce’s body was wracked with half-sobs/half-laughs of anguish mixed with near-insanity. By this time his right hand had been fully skinned. There was no muscle, no veins, just a clear morbid glove of flesh hanging from the wrist.

 

Another man stepped forward with a pair of branch cutters and an evil grin on his face. He encircled the exposed bones of Bryce’s with the blades and prepared to snap them shut.

 

*****

 

The Head of Security rushed into Bryce’s studio and saw the Neurostim bracelet. Recognizing it from her own experience, she quickly took it off Bryce’s wrist.

 

*****

 

The branch cutters began to close on Bryce’s wrist as his terror reached its crescendo. Soon he would plunge into the land of insanity. He wept in mourning for the destruction of his mind and waited for the inevitable.

 

Suddenly the cutters vanished along with his tormentors and he was left lying in mid-air in a cool darkness that held no pain. He wondered if this was the insanity he had been so afraid of. Maybe he was still being slowly taken apart in reality? At least here he wasn’t suffering. At least here he was safe.

 

Then someone was shaking him and a voice, a coarse woman’s voice, was speaking to him.

 

“Wake up,” came her urgent, concerned voice. “Wake up, Bryce.”

 

He didn’t want to. He wanted to stay here in the darkness. There was no pain where the voice was coming from. But he didn’t want to look at whatever was left of himself. He had no idea how long he’d been in the darkness. He had no idea if those who had tortured him had removed his entire arm? Maybe even started on his other hand? Who had saved him? Had he even been saved? Or was his delirium causing him to believe that he was safe while he was still being slowly taken apart?

 

Then he felt something cool and wet being applied to his forehead. A face-cloth, he was sure of it! That meant he was safe. He could at least risk allowing himself to drift into that world of comfort. Maybe he could live there in that reality, away from the pain.

 

Network 23’s Head of Security dabbed Bryce’s forehead with a damp face-cloth as she bent over him. Some people might say she was going over and above the call of duty. That all she had been required to do was remove the bracelet. But as far as she was concerned, as long he was stuck in whatever nightmare he had been trapped in, he wasn’t safe yet. And his safety, as well as everyone else’s at Network 23, was her business.

 

As she looked down, she saw his eyes flutter, then open.

 

“Thank goodness you’re finally awake,” she said.

 

“My hand,” Bryce sobbed. “They… they destroy-destroyed…” 

 

“Both of your hands are fine,” the woman said, soothingly as she took hold of them. “Can you feel me holding them?” she knew he was afraid to look.

 

“Yes,” Bryce realized, finally looking at them.

 

Both were whole and uncut. There wasn’t a single mark on them. Realizing that the whole thing had been a nightmare, he looked at her in confusion.

 

“Why didn’t I wake up?” he asked, fearfully. He wondered for a moment if his mind had slipped into a comfortable unreality after all.

 

The woman held up the Neurostim bracelet. “This was the cause.”

 

Bryce glared at the small, slim bracelet as if it were the most evil thing in the world. The most dangerous weapon anyone ever used.

 

Then he realized that it was.


	11. The Night Doctor

###  **_Chapter Eleven:  The Night Doctor_ **

 

Bryce screamed as he came awake in the middle of the night. Memories. Terrible memories. He’d had them on the first night after the torture he’d been subjected to. In the daytime he’d been too occupied to think on them, and they had sat far in the back of his mind.

 

For the next couple of days and nights, he’d forced himself to stay awake, giving himself all kinds of tasks to keep his mind off what it did not want to remember.

 

But he could only stay awake for so long, and soon the dream… the memory… came back with a vengeance. He could see the horrible thing that was being done to him. See it, and  _ feel  _ it.

 

He sat there in his chair where he’d fallen asleep, staring at Max Headroom, who was looking at him with deep concern.

 

“You need help, Bryce,” Max told him. “You can’t d-d-do this by yourself.”

 

“I’ve trained my mind since I was ten,” Bryce told him. “I should be able to…”

 

“Your mind is very fra-fra-fragile right now,” Max explained. “It’s been forced to d-d-deal with a situation it wasn’t trained to handle.”

 

Bryce looked down at his hands, reassuring himself that they were still there.

 

“Even if I did want to share my weakness with someone else…”

 

“Weakness?” Max asked. “You’ve gone a week alone without help after being tortured and you think you’re weak? Far from it. But you are helpless. And you don’t have to be.”

 

Max brought up a list of nearby hospitals.

 

“You want to have me committed?!” Bryce asked in horror.

 

“No!” Max exclaimed. “But you need to find someone who can help you deal with the night terrors as well as their cause. An overnight clinic would be appropriate for a short time.”

 

“It would be nice to get an uninterrrupted night of good sleep,” Bryce admitted. “I’m a total wreck right now.”

 

“Then let’s call them right away,” Max suggested.

 

Bryce tapped in the viewphone number that Max put up on the screen. He felt a little frightened, and enormously ashamed. But he was also exhausted and sick, and those feelings were even worse than his embarrassment.

 

“Morningside,” the receptionist on the screen said, in a cheerful and sympathetic manner. “What can I do for you?”

 

“I…” Bryce began. Then he hung up.

 

Max redialed the number and the receptionist reappeared on the screen.

 

“He’s a bit em-em-embarrassed,” he explained to her.

 

“Admitting you’re not strong enough to handle something on your own is nothing to be ashamed of,” the receptionist told Bryce. “Now, how can we at Morningside be of help to you?”

 

“I was… hurt… the other day,” Bryce explained, unable to say the word, never mind face the event that ate at his mind. It keeps coming back in my dreams. I can see everything!  _ Feel  _ everything! My mind is almost completely shattered! I’m sure it’s already been fractured.”

 

“Would you like me to send someone to pick you up?” the receptionist asked. “We can monitor your mind during your sleep tonight and that will help us determine what type of treatment plan would work best for.”

 

“I think- I think- I think that would be a good idea, Bryce,” Max told him.

 

“Okay,” Bryce said. “Just come to Network 23. I’ll meet them at the door.”

 

*****

 

“Oh my goodness,” the doctor in charge of sleep observation said to Bryce as he was brought into the clinic forty-five minutes later. She could see that Bryce was shaking like a leaf. Shaking so much, he could barely walk.  “What happened to you?”

 

“I want to go home,” Bryce sobbed. He was away from his comfort zone. If there was such a thing for him anymore. “But if I do… the memory will come back again and again until my mind is gone.  Please,” he begged, falling to his knees and continuing to shake. “Please, help me?”

 

“We’ll do everything we can,” the doctor said as she led Bryce into one of the sleep observation rooms. “This is where you will sleep tonight. You’ll find a pair of pajamas on top of the dresser. You may use them, or sleep in your clothes.  Nudity is not an option. When you’re ready, press the button and I’ll apply the observation wires.”

 

Bryce looked tearfully at the doctor.

 

“I’m just going to take off my shoes, I guess,” he said. “You can attach them now.”

 

“I’ll get them and be right back,” the doctor promised. She slipped out, returning moments later with the wires, which she carefully attached.

 

“In the morning, I will discuss the results of tonight’s observation with you,” she told Bryce. “For now, just let yourself drift off the way you normally have been for the past few days.”

 

Bryce lie down and closed his eyes as the doctor went into the monitoring room.

 

“Subject 2A43B-22. Bryce Lynch. Age about sixteen.” she recorded. “Subject suffers from night terrors caused by a traumatic event which he has not yet spoken of. Arrived at clinic in an extremely agitated state at one-forty-five in the morning.”

 

She watched as the machine recorded Bryce’s brainwave patterns. Far from the normal wave pattern, it produced constant spikes, as if Bryce’s mind was unable to find rest, as if it were fighting sleep whether Bryce wanted it to or not.

 

“Subject’s EEG patterns show extremely unwillingness of the mind to allow itself to sleep. Possibly avoiding something extremely unpleasant.”

 

After a while, Bryce’s mind wore itself out, and sleep finally began. HIs peace, however, only lasted for ten minutes before REM sleep began. Then he began to thrash around in bed, moving from side to side, but no further. As if he were being subdued.

 

The doctor looked at Bryce on the monitor, then looked at the EEG which was going wild. The indicator line was jumping all over the place.

 

“Subject showing signs of severe physical pain as well as extreme terror,” she said. “Despite the hour, I feel it necessary to awaken him. It does not seem ethical to allow him to experience any further upset tonight.”

 

She rushed into the observation room, and gently shook Bryce until he woke

 

Bryce sat up in bed, crying softly. “Will it ever go away?”

 

“We’re going to do all we can to make it go,” the doctor promised.


	12. Concerns and Options

###  **_Chapter Twelve: Concerns and Options_ **

 

When Edison Carter woke the next morning, he saw a very agitated Max Headroom on his screen.

 

“Nice to see some-some-someone got a good night’s sleep. Sleep.”  the construct grumbled. “Unlike other people-ple-ple.”

 

“Are you trying to suggest I do a report on the effect that having to leave the TV on all night has on people with insomnia?” Edison asked, thinking it might be a good idea.

 

“Guess who hasn’t been at Network 23 since around two in the mor-mor-morning,” Max remarked, sarcastically.

 

“I can think of a lot of people,” Edison replied. “Max if you’re trying to say something, just say it.”

 

“Fine,” Max told him. “Bryce is at Morningside.”

 

“The clinic?” Edison asked. “What’s he doing there?”

 

“You mean you hadn’t noticed how tired he’s been? Or how irr-irr-irritable?”

 

“Irritable, yes,” Edison told Max. “But he’s always that way around Murray.”

 

“Maybe so, but Murray doesn’t make him wake up screaming and in a complete pan-pan-panic,” Max explained. “I told him to tell someone the night he was attacked, but…”

 

“What do you mean attacked?” Edison demanded. “I’ve seen Bryce every day this past week and he looks fine.”

 

“His attacker used a modified neurostim…”

 

“Damn you, Max!” Edison swore. “Why didn’t you tell someone?”

 

“I  _ did  _ alert Network 23 security,” Max pouted. “I t-t-told Bryce that he should let some-some-someone help him. He refused until the nightmares all but shattered him-him-him.”

 

“Nightmares that began when he was attacked with a neurostim,” Edison asked. “The way I was?”

 

“You were only manip-manip-manipulated,” Max pointed out. “Bryce was t-t-tortured.”

 

“Tortured?” Edison felt a shudder go down his spine. “Are you sure?”

 

“Go to him,” Max suggested. “Talk t-t-to him.”

 

“I think I will,” Edison agreed. “What happened to the person who... ?”

 

“In pris-pris-prison,” Max said.

 

“Good,” Edison approved. “Exactly where that bastard should be.”

 

*****

 

Bryce looked up as a middle-aged man walked into the room he had been sleeping in.

 

“Dr. Beaumont would like to see you after breakfast,” the man said. “If you follow me, I will lead you to the client cafeteria.”

Bryce followed the man as if he were in a daze. The nightmares had still come, even in the clinic they had come.

 

_ You’ve only be here one night,  _ he reminded himself.  _ They haven’t even started treatment yet. _

 

Bryce got his food and sat at a table, toying listlessly with it.

 

*****

 

“I’d like to see Bryce Lynch,” Edison told the doctor he had been introduced to.

 

“I’m afraid I can’t recommend that at the moment,” Dr. Beaumont told him. “Bryce is very fragile at the moment. I’m going to begin his treatment after breakfast. The sooner we start him on the road to recovery the better.”

 

“Fragile,” Edison breathed.

 

“When he came in last night, he was exhausted and terrified that he could barely walk. That’s all I can tell you.”

 

Edison nodded, then departed, heading back to Network 23.

 

*****

 

“You’re late,” Murray chastised as Edison walked into the control room. “Cheviot’s in a snit. He says Bryce is missing.”

 

“Bryce is at Morningside,” Edison told him. “And he’s in no shape to come back to work.”

 

“The mental hospital?” Murray asked.

 

“It’s a sleep and trauma clinic,” Theora corrected him. “And I’m sure Bryce wouldn’t go there without a reason.” She looked to Edison for more information.

 

“All I know is that he was traumatized,” Edison told her. “Without Bryce’s permission, they can’t say anything more. And he’s in no fit state to give it.”

 

The viewphone on Theora’s desk went off and she saw that it was Jenny waiting to speak to her. Jenny looked concerned so Theora answered it.

 

“I can’t get a hold of Bryce,” Jenny said. “I’m really worried about him. We were supposed to meet up this morning to discuss our situation.”

 

“Jenny,” Theora told her, “Bryce won’t be able to meet with you for a bit. He’s not well right now.”

 

“He’s sick?” Jenny inquired.

 

“Wounded would be a more accurate term,” Theora replied.

 

“He’s been  _ hurt _ ?” Jenny asked, mortified at the thought.

 

“He was attacked a few days ago,” Edison explained. “Not physically. Max says he was mentally tortured with a modified neurostim. That’s all I know. That and the fact that Bryce checked into Morningside in the middle of the night when it all became too much for him.”

 

Jenny gave a nod of understanding, her eyes saddened at the idea of Bryce having undergone mental torture. She knew that he had never let himself dream. He’d been proud of the mental exercises he did at night. But now that had become a hindrance rather than an asset. Without the help of experience, Bryce probably did not know the tell-tale signs of dreaming. Then again, it had been a neurostim dream, so the signs probably weren’t even there.  

 

“Morningside is a good clinic,” she remarked, sounding slightly distracted. “They’ll treat him well there. Will you let me know when he’s well enough for visitors?”

 

“I will,” Theora promised.

 

Jenny thanked her and disconnected the call.

 

*****

 

“Well now, Bryce is it?”

 

Bryce nodded. He was calm for the moment. But he did not know when the next flashback would happen, and that worried him.

 

“I see you’re suffering from severe night terrors,” Dr. Beaumont noted, glancing at Bryce’s chart.

 

“They don’t just happen at night,” Bryce told him. “I have to keep my mind on other things constantly, or it comes back. I can’t sleep, I can’t even rest.”

 

“Tell me, when did it begin?” Dr. Beaumont asked.

 

Bryce swallowed hard. “Just short of a week ago. When I was tortured with a modified neurostim. You remember them? Zik Zak’s little toy?”

 

“I remember talking with my wife and discussing whether repeated viewings constituted cheating or not,” Dr. Beaumont replied. “But you say the one used on you was modified to produce an unpleasant dream.”

 

“Far worse than unpleasant,” Bryce corrected him.

 

“Try to describe them,” Dr. Beaumont invited.

 

Bryce shook his head. “It’ll make the memory stronger.” he began to tremble. “I can’t do it!”

 

Dr. Beaumont set the file aside.

 

“Bryce,” he told him. “You will have to face your nightmare if you want to get past it.”

 

“I can’t do it,” Bryce shook his head, looking at his hands as if to reassure himself that they were still there. Still whole. It was exactly what he was looking at them for. “I’m too scared.

 

“It’s okay if you can’t do it right now,” Dr. Beaumont assured him. “We’ll work on helping you find the courage to do it. The first step is to work on calming yourself when you start to feel that sense of panic or dread that happens when the flashbacks occur. I’m going to teach you how to control your breathing so that we can try to eliminate or at least minimize any anxiety attacks that accompany the incidents in question.”

 

“I don’t think it will work,” Bryce admitted. “I don’t think I’d remember how to do it if I’m in a state of panic.”

 

“We’ll work on a series of mnemonics that will help you to remember,” Dr. Beaumont explained. “Shall we begin?”

 


	13. Fear of an Uncertain Reality

###  **_Chapter Thirteen: Fear of an Uncertain Reality_ **

 

Dr. Beaumont watched Bryce carefully over the next couple of days. He wanted the boy to feel safe during the EMDR sessions, but he didn’t want to take too much time. 

 

Once a nurse had taken Bryce’s wrist to check his pulse. Bryce had frozen and begun to whimper in a state of panic. 

 

The nurse could only feel him tense and hear him whine like a lost puppy. She could not see the memory that pierced his mind? A memory of a scalpel pressing into the tip of a pinky; of the blood that welled up from the cut it made. It was just a flash, but it imprinted itself on his mind and drove Bryce into a state of near panic.

 

“I was just taking his pulse and he just went into shock,” the nurse had told Dr. Beaumont as he had taken out his pen light and checked Bryce’s pupils.

 

Dr. Beaumont looked concerned. “His pupils are responding. So he is able to see us. I’m not sure why he’s not focusing.” He snapped his fingers, but Bryce did not react. Bryce had remained that way for a full ten minutes before he finally blinked and looked around in confusion.

  
  


It had been then that Dr. Beaumont decided that he wouldn’t wait any longer. It was time to begin the EMDR treatment.

 

*****

 

Bryce looked cautiously at the man who called himself a doctor. In this world, this reality, that didn’t mean anything to him. History had come up with plenty of madmen who claimed to be doctors.

 

“We’re going to begin a treatment program today called EMDR, or Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing therapy,” the man explained. 

 

Bryce eyed him suspiciously. He wanted to be healed. For the pain and fear to be a thing of the past. But what if he wasn’t truly safe? What if this treatment plan was nothing more than a ruse to pull him out of his safe and comfortable insanity and back into the reality of him being tortured. After all, dreams were supposed to seem a lot longer than they really were. All this time could’ve taken less than an hour in reality. They could be in the middle of removing the skin from his other hand or arm. Perhaps his limbs were completely gone and they were preparing to remove his head? He didn’t want to face that. If he was going to die, let him die here, in this safe and pain-free world.

 

_ Please, _ his mind pleaded,  _ please don’t make me go back there! I can’t! I just can’t! _

 

Dr. Beaumont watched him for a moment, then looked at him with concern.

 

“What are you seeing right now?” he asked.

 

Bryce looked at him doubtfully.  “I think I’m hallucinating. I can see a man in a doctor’s coat and a desk with papers and something shiny on it.”

 

“That’s exactly what you should be seeing,” Dr. Beaumont assured him. “You’re in my office and the shiny object is a device used in EDMR sessions.”

 

“I can’t be here,” Bryce shook his head. “I know I’m not really here.”

 

“Where are you then?” Dr. Beaumont asked.

 

“I can’t say,” Bryce shook his head. “If I tell, this will all go away and I’ll be back where the bad stuff is happening.”

 

“How long has the bad stuff been happening?” Dr. Beaumont wanted to know.

 

Bryce shook his head. “I can’t tell. I don’t want to know.  _ Please don’t make me tell you that! _ ”

 

“Do you want it to go away?” the doctor asked him.

 

Bryce nodded.

 

“Then we need to face that nightmare,” Dr. Beaumont told him. “We. Together. Do you trust me?”

 

“I don’t even know if you’re  _ real _ or not,” Bryce explained. “So how can I trust you?”

 

“That’s a very good question,” Dr. Beaumont agreed. “What if I pinch you? That’s the usual test.”

 

“But I can feel things in my nightmare,” Bryce explained. “I can feel terrible pain and…” he curled up into a ball in the chair and buried his head in his arms as the memory of skin being pulled away from bone struck him like prolonged flash of lightning.

 

_ This puts a whole new spin on things, _ Dr. Beaumont thought.  _ If he can actually feel the trauma he experienced on a physical level, then I’m going to have to approach his treatment a little differently. EMDR is still the best way, I think. But I’m going to have to think of a way to desensitize him to the physical effects of the assault that was committed against his mind as well as the mental ones. _


	14. A Call From Jenny

###  **_Chapter Fourteen: A Call From Jenny_ **

 

Jenny sat at her viewphone and tapped in the number for Morningside. It had been almost two weeks since Bryce had been admitted for trauma. In that time, she hadn’t heard from or about him.

 

“Morningside,” the receptionist said as she appeared on the screen.

 

“I’d like to speak to Bryce Lynch,” Jenny told her.

 

“I’ll ask Dr. Beaumont if he’s ready to have phone calls,” the receptionist told her as she tapped a button on her console.  “Dr. Beaumont, Bryce’s friend Jenny is on the link. Is Bryce able to have calls at this time?”

 

“I think a supervised phone call at this stage would be an excellent idea,” Dr. Beaumont said.  “Please transfer the call to my office. He can take the call there.”

 

The receptionist turned back to Jenny.

 

“Is that okay with you?” she asked.

 

“That’s fine,” Jenny agreed.

 

Minutes later, Bryce was sitting in Dr. Beaumont’s office with Jenny on the viewphone.

 

“Are you real?” he asked tearfully. “Are you really real?”

 

“Yes, Bryce,” Jenny told him.  “I’m here. I’m real. I haven’t spoken to you in over two weeks. Tell me what’s wrong? Maybe I can help?”

 

“Dr. Beaumont is making progress,” Bryce told her. “I’m at the point where I only have nightmares at night. Though I have relapsed a couple of times.”

 

“What happened to you?” Jenny asked.

 

“I can’t quite face it yet,” Bryce told her. “It frightens me too much.”

 

Jenny frowned. Then she smiled, warmly.  

 

“The baby is doing well,” she told him. “I saw the doctor yesterday and he says she’s nice and healthy.”

 

“She,” Bryce said, tears of happiness falling from his eyes. “I’m going to have a daughter. Oh, Jenny.  I wish I could be there for her. But I can’t trust myself until I get past this thing I’m going through.”

 

“I trust you, Bryce,” Jenny told him. “Whatever you’re going through, I know you would never harm our child. But if you’re really that afraid, we can limit contact to viewphone calls. But only until you feel sure of  yourself.”

 

“Thanks, Jenny,” Bryce told her. “I miss you.”

 

“I miss you, Bryce,” Jenny told him. “I have to go, but I’ll call you again. I promise.”

 

“It’ll be something to look forward to,” Bryce said as Jenny disconnected the call.


	15. Session

###  **_Chapter Fifteen: Session_ **

 

Bryce sat in Dr. Beaumont’s office. He was scheduled for another one of his EMDR sessions.

 

“Focus on the light bar.” Dr. Beaumont reminded him. “Just let your eyes watch the light until it seems to be second nature.”

Bryce watched the soft light as it traveled back and forth along the slim bar, it’s motion soothing, it’s soft shimmer relaxing.

 

“Just let your mind drift back to the dream,” Dr. Beaumont instructed, his voice light. “Let yourself remember.”

 

“Is that the dream, or is this the dream?” Bryce asked, half-mesmerised. “Which is which? I can’t be sure.”

 

“What would happen if this was the dream? What are you afraid of waking and discovering?”

 

“I don’t want to remember,” Bryce shook his head. “I want to forget.”

 

“The ironic thing about the mind,” Dr. Beaumont told him, “is that the first step to forgetting is remembering. It is only when we know what we’re dealing with that we can discard the problem entirely.”

 

“What do you mean?” Bryce asked.

 

“Do you remember a toy called Legos? Or was that after your time?”

 

“I had a set when I was five,” Bryce explained “I built an abacus out of it.”

 

“I won’t even ask how you managed it,” Dr. Beaumont remarked, though he was rather impressed. It also disturbed him. If Bryce’s mind was as clever as it seemed to be, it might build on the nightmare, possibly to a point where it would be too firmly rooted in his mind to get rid of.  

 

“What I’m trying to say, then,” Dr. Beaumont explained. “As imagine if you gave away your Legos when you got older, but one piece remained. Sooner or later, you’re bound to step on it.”

 

“I see what you’re saying,” Bryce agreed. “But stepping on Legos is nowhere near as painful than what my nightmare was about.”

 

“All the more reason for us to face it so that we can put it behind you,” Dr. Beaumont offered.

 

“I can’t,” Bryce told him. “I just can’t…”


	16. Sand and Sanity

###  **_Chapter Sixteen: Sand and Sanity_ **

 

“Hello, Bryce,” said one of the orderlies as she came in to change the bed and gather up the laundry. 

 

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Danvers,” Bryce replied, sadly.

 

“Still troubled, I see,” Mrs. Danvers never asked about a person’s actually trauma, choosing instead to ask about their feelings. 

 

Bryce nodded. “Dr. Beaumont wants me to confront my dream, but I’m too scared. I should be logical about this, but whenever I even think about thinking about it, I just want to curl up and hide.”

 

Mrs. Danvers smiled warmly at him as she reached into her rather large purse, which Bryce had once joked about her carrying ENIAC in.

 

She pulled out a battered old book which had a piece of paper sticking out as a bookmark.

 

Bryce opened it. The piece of paper had one word on it: REMEMBER.

 

Mrs. Danvers leaned over his shoulder and pointed at a single paragraph.

 

“I read this when I was a child,” she told him. “I thought this in particular might be helpful to you.”

 

Bryce looked at where she was pointing.

 

“I must not fear,” he read, “fear is the mindkiller…”  he fell silent as he read the remainder of the litany. 

 

“Thank you,” he said, “I think this will be very helpful.”

 

Mrs. Danvers smiled. “I think you’ll find it enjoyable as well as helpful.”

 

*****

 

Bryce read the book far into the night, stopping only for meals and when the orderly who checked the rooms at night ordered him to put the book away and try to get some sleep.

 

“Not make a machine in the image of a man,” he snorted. “I can’t imagine a world without Max. But I guess if they had let themselves grow lazy and stupid because they were letting the machines do everything, I can see the value in a law such as that. But Paul’s test… it was almost like my nightmare.  Except he couldn’t actually see what was happening. Though it didn’t really happen to him.”

 

Bryce paused at the thought.

 

_ They claim it didn’t really happen to me either.  _

 

He closed his eyes and rolled onto his side, facing away from the static of the Standby Show.

_ I must not fear. Fear is the mindkiller… _

  
  



End file.
